


Sonata

by JessicaMDawn



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Aliens, Attempted Murder, Attempted robbery, Dates, Drake's in a Band, Fluff, M/M, Murder, Nicknames, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Torchwood Three, by an alien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-04
Updated: 2011-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaMDawn/pseuds/JessicaMDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, Mickey returns to his original Earth, but his life feels dull without Jake Simmonds. Then one night in a club, fate buys him another round. Mickey/DoctorUniverse!Jake</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rhythm

**Author's Note:**

> A Sonata is: "Music of a particular form consisting of four movements. Each of the movements differ in tempo, rhythm, and melody; but are held together by subject and style." (from www.classicalworks.com/html/glossary.html)

It had been routine. Most of the cybermen were destroyed by now and all Torchwood was doing was getting rid of the stragglers. There had been an old factory where locals had said they kept hearing screaming, like when people are tortured or turned into cybers. Mickey and Jake led a team of four others to check it out. What they found was a colony of cybermen that was slowly making new members, multiplying their numbers. There were forty cybermen in the small factory, with twenty empty cyber-suits hanging on the walls.

Killing cybermen had become the simplest of tasks. Point and shoot. Point and shoot. As long as they didn't get a shot in first, you were fine. They should have known that with forty cybers, one would get a shot in. Mickey heard Jake shout to him a moment before he was there, right beside Mickey, jumping in the way of the attack. The rest of the team had taken out the remaining cybermen, including the one that shot Jake, while Mickey had dropped to his knees next to Jake and fallen apart.

He couldn't lose Jake. He just couldn't.

Jake looked so scared, his face frozen in the fear for his friend even in death. It was that expression that had been burned into Mickey's mind. He had to force himself to remember the times when Jake had laughed, smiled, joked about. It was really hard; harder than it should have been. He had a little easier of a time remembering the day Jake had cried for Ricky, shortly after he and Mickey had teamed up. It had been the first time Jake had truly opened up to him, the first time Jake really trusted him with everything. And while it had made Mickey feel wonderful to have that trust, remembering Jake's tears now just hurt him. He wanted to remember Jake as he was meant to be: happy.

It got to the point that every time Mickey shut his eyes, all he saw was Jake's frightened face. His chest ached with every blink, with every memory. So when Rose said they were heading back to their original timeline to help the Doctor, he'd jumped at the chance to escape a Jake-less world. He told Jack he was staying because his granddad was still alive in this, his original timeline, but that wasn't the truth. His granddad was alive, but Mickey just couldn't stay in Jake's world without Jake.

Mickey had always been able to adapt. His entire life he'd been able to get used to anything life threw at him. He even got used to living in another world and became a better person for it. Yet, back in his original world, Mickey wasn't sure what to do with himself. He got a part-time job at a grocery mart while he tried to figure out where his life was headed. Then he got a job in one of the branches of Torchwood in this world, indirectly helping Captain Jack and his team or even the UNIT when he got the chance. But during the nights, when there was no work to be done, Mickey would close his eyes and see Jake's frightened face. He couldn't escape it, couldn't adapt to life without Jake anymore. After living in a van with him, and then living at Torchwood with him; after seeing him _every day_ and spending time with him every day, Mickey couldn't get used to life without him. He was drowning in the emptiness, and no one was pulling him out.

That was how he'd ended up in this place. It was a bar where bands that were trying to make it big signed up to play and the crowd was your pass or fail judge. Mickey had been there once or twice before his life was flipped upside down, but never since. He was nursing the beer in front of him, not even sure he actually wanted it, when the unthinkable happened.

Another guy, dressed in black punk clothes, slid into the seat next to Mickey and tapped the bar top to catch the bartender's attention during a break in the preprogrammed music. The bands would start playing in five minutes.

"I just need one more shot, Jimmy," a familiar voice joked, sounding just a tad bit tipsy. Mickey's head shot up and to the left to stare in shock at the familiar face of Jake Simmonds.

"I think you've had enough," the bartender, apparently 'Jimmy', told Jake soundly.

Jake shook his head with what was definitely a giggle. "Come on," he prodded, leaning forward. "I can' get up there and perform without one more." His eyes flicked to Mickey beside him for about a half a second before his attention was back on the bartender.

Jimmy regarded him sternly for about four seconds before giving in and pouring Jake a shot of some alcoholic beverage. Mickey wasn't paying attention to the drink itself. He was watching Jake's hand as he expertly grabbed the small glass. He was watching Jake's adam's apple as he tossed the drink back and swallowed. He was watching Jake's face as he let out a loud breath and then sighed with a large smile.

"Excellent as always, Jimmy," Jake complimented lightly with a nod toward the bartender before he slid back off his seat and away from the bar, leaving the empty glass in his stead. Mickey watched him as he approached the right side of the stage, where three other people were standing, dressed similarly to Jake. They must be his band, Mickey thought absently.

One of the club managers was talking to them for a moment and they all nodded, so the manager lifted the mic in his hand to his mouth and said, "Alright everybody, it's that moment you've all been waiting for. It's the time of the night where you get to be the judges and decide the fate of a few people's lives." The crowd gathered cheered. "The first group up tonight is a band that's never played here before. Everyone give a warm welcome to…The Preachers!"

Mickey nearly slipped and knocked his head against the bar in his surprise. He instead simply set his head carefully on the cool wooden surface and let out a short chuckle. "Some things never change," he murmured into the wood. "The gospel truth…"

The Preachers were good. They were a lot Punk with a little Rock and Roll and Alternative thrown in. All three of the songs they played had lyrics that really got you down in the soul, even if you didn't relate to it. Mickey watched as the crowd cheered and danced to the beat, and some people even began to sing along once they'd heard the chorus a few times. And then there was Jake on the stage. He played the guitar and sang backup vocals and didn't seem even the slightest bit drunk in the spotlight. His hair was spiked, his clothes were black, sweat was dripping down his face from the heat of the lights and the adrenaline pumping through his veins at the fast pace of the songs. He looked happy, exhilarated.

And for that moment, Mickey couldn't remember what Jake looked like scared.

Then the session ended to the cheers of the crowd, and yet the disappointed boos that there weren't any more songs from the Preachers to be played. The band was swarmed by people as soon as they were off stage and Jake was blocked from view. Mickey turned back to his beer and frowned at it. He'd forgotten to drink it during the set and now it was warm. As if sensing his thoughts, Jimmy grabbed the warm drink and replaced it with a cold one without a word.

"Thanks," Mickey said anyway, pulling the glass closer and taking a half-hearted sip of the liquid.

Then suddenly Jake was on the seat next to him again, his expression open and happy. He linked his fingers on the bar top and bounced his hands impatiently. "Gimme a beer, Jimmy," he ordered with a smile.

Jimmy shook his head with a good-natured smile on his face but got Jake the drink anyway. "You drink too much, kid," he chastised lightly.

Jake laughed once and looked at his hands. "Only when I'm nervous or celebrating," he corrected in a slightly softer tone of voice before lifting his eyes to Jimmy's face again as the drink he'd ordered was set in front of him. "Thanks."

Someone down the bar called Jimmy down while another band ("The Killer Wasps") set up on stage and began to play. They were O.K., but they were not The Preachers. A girl walked by the bar on her way out and tapped Jake on the shoulder. He turned to her and gave a moderately pleasant smile.

"You guys were _amazing_!" the girl, about eighteen years old looking and wearing a shirt that covered practically nothing, gushed with a blush high on her cheeks. "I'm _definitely_ a fan of yours now!"

"Thanks," Jake said with an amiable nod. "Thanks a lot."

The girl let out a squee before hurrying from the club. Jake chuckled to himself and turned back to his drink. He kept tapping his fingers on the sides of the glass in a rhythm Mickey didn't recognize and letting out long breaths of air. It was something Mickey had learned about Jake in the other world that clued him in: This Jake was nervous. Mickey took a gulp of his beer and let it out with a soft sigh. It was good to know the two Jake's were similar in some respects.

"You've got a good sound," Mickey said conversationally, barely glancing to Jake before looking straight ahead again. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jake relax a bit.

"Thanks," he said again. "We've been working on this band for years now. I'm glad you like it."

Mickey gave him a smile and a nod. "Yea. I do."

They lapsed into silence once again, each staring at the wall of the bar instead of at each other. Jake started tapping on his glass again and Mickey gripped the handle of his glass a little tighter as he gulped down another mouthful of beer. Jake had barely touched his drink.

"Hey, you-" Jake cut himself off even as he turned to face Mickey more. At the stop, Mickey turned his head and gave Jake his full attention. Jake shook his head once. "You wanna hang out later? My bandmates and me always go to this place downtown on Saturdays and, well," he let out a half-snort, "it's Saturday."

Mickey felt the smile creeping onto his face. "That sounds good. Sure," he agreed with a nod.

Jake's face split into a wide grin that Mickey had only ever caught in glances from the Jake of the other world. "Good. Really good." He turned to his drink for a moment before turning sideways again, his mouth open to speak. "My name's Drake. Drake Simmonds. What's yours?"

Mickey took a moment to process the new name. Drake. Not Jake. Drake. It was like Mickey and Ricky. He shut his eyes and let out a single, soft chuckle. Opening his eyes, Mickey lifted his glass and gave a sort of salute to Drake with it. "Mickey. Mickey Smith."

Drake nodded and lifted his glass to touch Mickey's before they both moved to drink. "It's nice to meet you, Mickey Smith."


	2. Tune

"Hey, Mickey Mouse!"

Mickey glanced up from where he'd been staring at the ground. He was leaning on the bars around the point where the Doctor always parked his Tardis if he wanted a recharge, and only a few hundred feet from the Torchwood building. Turning his head, Mickey smiled. Walking calmly up to him was Drake Simmonds. He was wearing black and white tripp pants, a black hoodie with 'The Preachers' written across the chest in white, religious looking typography but with the edges of the letters fraying, and a black undershirt. He also wore a chain necklace with a metal guitar pick at the end.

"You're late," he commented lightly, and it was obvious he wasn't actually upset. As the dark haired male came to a stop beside him, Mickey grinned. "I thought dragons were meant to be fast."

Drake narrowed his eyes at him. "Yea. We also breathe fire, so watch out."

Mickey snorted and it broke Drake's concentration. A smile broke out across his face as well and he stuffed his hands in his pants pockets.

"Remind me again how you got that name?" Mickey asked.

With a shrug, Drake said, "I think my mom had a thing with Merlin or something. But Merlin's too off and Arthur's too boring, so I got named after a Dragon." He lifted his eyebrows momentarily, as if shrugging them as well.

"Right," Mickey agreed.

For a few moments, the two of them just stared at each other. Then Drake shifted on his feet and glanced away as if nervous. He actually looked right at the Torchwood building, but there was no way he knew what it was. "So. We should head out if we're gonna catch that film."

Nodding, Mickey said, "Right," again and pushed off the railing.

It had been almost two months now since Mickey met the musician in that bar, and they'd hung out almost constantly. If neither of them was working, and Drake didn't have band practice, they were together. In that time, Mickey had learned quite a bit about this new Jake.

He had a bad relationship with his mum. His dad had walked out on them when he was still a kid, but his mother still pined away for the bastard, and Drake couldn't stand it. Several times, Drake had called him up to hang out because he wanted to blow off steam. Or blow smoke, since Drake smoked. It wasn't something major in his life, but he did it.

"It's a nasty habit," he'd grumbled, throwing his cigarette away, the first time Mickey saw him light up. "Keep swearin I'm gonna quit, but it hasn't seemed worth the effort yet." He'd smirked and said, "Plus, it pisses mum off, and that's always a bonus for anything I do these days."

Drake really loved his music. Wherever they went together, he was always tapping his feet to some beat only he could hear, or talking about how some city noise they heard could be made into the perfect background for The Preachers next big hit. Since that night at the bar, The Preachers had been approached by a man from a record company, and they were working on producing their first CD. It meant Drake was getting busier by the day, and Mickey would be lying if he said he didn't miss him when he was gone.

It was different from when he was with Jake. Jake was all bitterness and anger. He wasn't afraid of anything or anyone, and if he didn't like you, you knew it. Drake was all pent up energy just waiting to be let out. Start him off and he could ramble about bands or corrupt authority or his mum for hours until you stopped him. Whereas Jake saw the world as a disreputable place that was half way to damnation with only Torchwood standing in its way, Drake saw the world full of possibilities and opportunities. And yet, they were essentially the same person. They both had a strong sense of justice; and the gall to go about defending it.

Whereas with Jake, Mickey felt strong and needed, with Drake he felt at ease and happy. He knew he could easily take down practically any man except Captain Jack. He knew he was strong. And he knew Torchwood needed him and his experience. Drake's presence just seemed to make all of that worth it; seemed to make him feel whole. It distinguished him from Jake in a way Mickey hadn't thought possible.

"You ok?" Drake asked warily as they stood in line at the theater. He was giving Mickey a raised eyebrow, not-sure-if-I-want-to-be-seen-in-public-with-you-right-now sort of look and it made Mickey grin.

"Yea," he assured him with a shake of his head to brush the situation away. "I'm brilliant."

Drake stared at him for another long moment until it was their turn in line and then shrugged. "Ok." Mickey bought his ticket next and Drake waited for him before heading over to the counter for popcorn. "Hey, how's your granddad?"

Mickey blinked, taken aback for a moment, and then nodded. "Good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Doctor said it was a minor attack and he should be back on his feet in a day or so," Mickey explained. His granddad had had a heart attack yesterday, cutting their previous movie plans short. When he'd told his granddad that, he'd been practically forced out of the hospital to go 'enjoy his youth' or something.

Enjoy his youth.

Mickey glanced sideways at Drake as they headed into the theater. Drake was fit. He was gorgeous. Mickey accepted that. But he didn't dare tell Drake about it. Jake had been gay, sure, for Rickey, but that held nothing to Drake. As far as Mickey had seen, Drake could've been straight or gay. Hell, he could be omni-sexual like Jack. The fact of the matter was, Drake just didn't flirt. With anybody.

Well, except maybe with Mickey, but they were friends and a lot of stuff friends did seemed like flirting to other people. Unless Drake made a move, it didn't mean anything. And Mickey was so used to just standing and watching his crushes from the sidelines that it would take a miracle for him to make a move himself.

They sat in the back of the theater. Mickey tried hard not to notice how most of the people around them were couples. It was an action flick, but still the dates around them were getting a head start on making out in the not-yet-darkened theater.

Drake was frowning next to him. He leaned his head closer to Mickey's and Mickey leaned in as well to hear him better. "I've never understood that," he whispered. "Why come to a movie and then spend the whole time locked together at the teeth?"

Mickey shrugged and stole some popcorn from Drake's bag. "Maybe it's exciting to do it in public," he theorized. He'd keep shut about how he wouldn't mind kissing Drake in a darkened theater, if the slightly younger man was up for it.

Drake shook his head. He watched Mickey's hand as he grabbed more popcorn and sighed heavily once it was out of the way. "I just think it's stupid paying nine quid to snog instead of watching what you paid for." He actually said it loud enough that, if any of the people around them had been listening with half an ear, they could've heard.

If any of them did hear, they didn't listen. Mickey held in a snort, but pat Drake's arm where it was resting on the armrest between them. Drake looked down at it for a moment and then up at Mickey. Mickey inclined his head a bit in a nod. "Makes sense," he agreed.

The lights dimmed, cutting off the conversation. Still, that didn't stop them from joking about corny lines or plot holes in laughing whispers the whole time. Someone kicked Mickey at some point, but he wasn't sure if it was the guy next to him or the girl next to that guy, who were wrapped up in each other as they watched the movie. He ignored them anyway.

…

…

"Wow," Mickey let out as they walked down the street later, "I hadn't been to a movie in so long…I forgot how much fun it is."

Drake sighed contently beside him. The sun had gone down while they were inside, but the street lights provided plenty of light for them. Mickey looked over at him, but Drake was staring at the stars.

"Know what?" Drake asked rhetorically.

"What?" Mickey answered anyway.

"Think I'm gonna write a song about idiots who make out during movies." He cast Mickey a grin. "Maybe something about not seeing the light when your eyes are shut so tight."

Mickey smiled. "Sounds good already."

Drake nodded, pleased with himself. "Yea. John'll like it." John was the lead vocalist in The Preachers. Drake took a deep breath and then, in a soft voice, sang, "Cause I don't need to kiss you, babe…To know that I love you…." He heaved his shoulders a bit. "That's just a bonus…Those gits in the back seats," he sang a bit faster, and a grin crawled across his face, "thinking that they feel the heat, of the fire. But, how can you see the light, when your eyes are shut so tight? You just miss everything, and anything at all," he trailed off.

He glanced at Mickey briefly. When he saw Mickey watching him closely, a flush rose up in his cheeks and he quickly looked away. "What?"

Mickey smiled. "If that's the rough draft, I can't wait to hear once you've finished it."

A giddy sort of smile, like something Jake would wear when he heard they were up to no good again, crossed Drake's face. It didn't last long though. Mickey choked out a breath when someone rushed into him from behind, knocking the air from his lungs. Before he really knew what was happening, there was an arm around his own upper arms and something cool against his neck. A knife. Drake's eyes widened in shock and fear.

"Mickey! Let him go," he commanded. The guy holding Mickey didn't listen.

"Empty your pockets, or I slit his throat," a gruff voice demanded from behind Mickey's right ear. Drake looked between Mickey's face and that of the man holding him, obviously trying to think of a way out of this. The man readjusted his grip on Mickey in aggravation. "Now!"

Drake hesitated only a moment and then gave up trying to think of solutions. He grimaced and stuffed his hands in his pockets, rummaging for his wallet. Mickey shook his head. This was stupid. Bending his knees, Mickey shoved his elbows in the man's gut and then knocked his head backward into the man's face. That left a bit of space between his neck and the knife and Mickey reached up and grabbed the hand holding the weapon. With a twist, the man howled and dropped the knife, and then Mickey used that same hand and the man's right shoulder to heft the other man over his own shoulder and land him hard on the ground in front of him.

The guy was unshaven and looked tired, but otherwise wouldn't have looked the part of a mugger. Mickey grabbed Drake's left hand and ran off down the street. He didn't stop until they were several streets away. It wasn't that he was worried the guy was going to get back up or anything, but more that he just didn't want to have to deal with it.

When they stopped, Mickey hesitated in releasing Drake's hand. He glanced at Drake's face, looking to see if the other male minded holding his hand, and instead found Drake looking a bit like he was in shock.

"What?" Mickey asked innocently.

Drake blinked at him for a moment before finally managing to shut his mouth. "Who are you?" he asked with a confused sounding laugh. "Some sort of secret government assassin?"

Mickey laughed. "Assassin?" he asked incredulously.

His laughter seemed to calm Drake down at bit. "No. I guess not. But really, who are you, Superman?" he asked in a teasing sort of tone.

Mickey shrugged. "I'm Mickey Mouse." Drake smiled at him and he smiled back before glancing down at their hands and then away down the street.

Drake shook his head. "I've changed my mind," he announced easily. When Mickey glanced at him again, he grinned, but Mickey also saw he was blushing. "I'm gonna write a song about you, instead." And he squeezed Mickey's hand a little bit tighter.


	3. Harmony

The metal cog of a door slid shut behind him, then the grates after that. Mickey shrugged his shoulders and walked further into the Torchwood Three base. He bypassed the others, at work at their own stations (or _not_ at work at their own stations), and moved on to where an antique looking desk with a myriad of _stuff_ on it was situated. Behind the desk sat the leader of Torchwood Three, the man who couldn't die: Captain Jack Harkness.

He was dressed in a light blue collared shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal the skin of his arms, and black suit pants with suspenders. He was a man that everyone loved, even if they hated him. And he was sort of Mickey's boss.

Jack was fiddling with something – some alien device – and not really looking at Mickey.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Mickey asked, standing straight.

"Agh," Jack let out, flipping the strange metallic device upside down. "Don't act so military." Mickey tried to loosen his shoulders, but he was so used to the stricter methods of Torchwood One in the alternate world. "Nope. I just wanted to ask how your boyfriend was doing. It's not every day that one of us gets a social life." He hit the fist sized device in his hand with a small wrench, but Mickey didn't see how that did anything to it at all. "Especially you."

Mickey frowned. "What's that supposed to mean? 'Especially Me'?" He leaned minutely more on his right leg than his left.

Jack set the wrench on the table, his eyes fixed avidly on the device in his right hand. He spoke evenly, even as he reached down to open a drawer and pull out what looked like a bent stylus. "Oh you know. The whole 'coming back to this world' thing? You told me you were coming back for your grandpa, but you've been absolutely miserable." He glanced up at Mickey with a smirk. "Something happen in that other world you wanna tell me about?" he asked slyly.

Mickey felt his cheeks heat, but he wasn't sure if it was in anger or some unnecessary embarrassment. "Nothing happened," he stated forcefully. "And anyway, I don't have a boyfriend. So I don't know what you're asking about anyway."

Jack very nearly dropped the alien device on his desk as he let out a put-upon sounding sigh and gave Mickey a tired look. "Don't lie to me." He gestured vaguely at the monitors around the room. "I've seen you leave work and meet him dozens of times."

"You've been spying on me?" Mickey asked indignantly, glaring at his superior.

"It's not spying," Jack insisted easily. He shrugged. "It's lucky timing and merited interest."

"You've been spying on me!" Mickey accused, feeling anger creep up in his chest.

Jack held up his hands. "Calm down," he ordered, but it sounded like a flippant statement. Lowering his hands to the desk top, he leaned over them to be closer to Mickey. "Look, if you like a guy, you like a guy. It's not that big a deal. I like guys." A grin twitched his lips. "I like pretty much anything, actually." Shaking his head and coming back to himself, Jack focused on Mickey again. "But yea. He's cute. There's nothing wrong with it."

Mickey frowned. "No there aint," he agreed.

With a nod, Jack sat back in his chair. "Right. So," he gestured to Mickey, "how's your boyfriend, then?"

"I told you," Mickey began, sounding exasperated, "I don't have a boyfriend."

A strange, almost lewd expression crossed Jack's face. "Oh," he said, as if in revelation. "Oh, so he doesn't know, does he?" A laughing smile took over. "Now that's sweet."

"How's that sweet?" Mickey half-demanded, making a pointless waving motion with his arms before letting them drop to his sides.

"Little Mickey's got his first whittle crush," Jack teased. "I feel like I'm watching one of my children…," he heaved an emotional breath, "grow up." He sniffled and wiped at his dry eyes.

Mickey actually _growled,_ from deep in his throat, and Jack sobered up.

"Really, _Mickey Mouse_ -"

"What, have you got _audio_ on me too?" Mickey demanded.

Jack drove right through the interruption without answering. "Sometimes you've got to take a leap of faith. You two seem pretty close. I mean," he began, shrugging his shoulders and casting his eyes around his desk, "every time you get off, you go stand by that light and wait for him, or you're on your phone with him. I mean, I've even seen you messaging him while you're supposed to be doing your job," he ended, landing his gaze on Mickey.

Mickey swallowed. He'd hoped no one had noticed that. He wasn't technically supposed to answer calls on the job. But he just got so _excited_ whenever he saw Drake had messaged him…

"I mean, if you get any more sweet, I'm gonna start charging to sell bits of you off at carnivals." Mickey snorted and it made Jack's own smile brighter.

There was a drop in conversation then; both of them just smiling. The sounds of work had dropped out around them, which meant everyone was probably listening in, but Mickey couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. Jack nodded.

"So, what's he do?" he asked conversationally.

Mickey slipped his hands in his jean pockets. "He's a musician."

"Ah, a musician," Jack said appreciatively. "The original heartthrob. Any good?"

"Yea."

"Where'd you meet him?"

What was this? An interrogation? Was Jack meant to be his father? "In a bar. His band performed."

"Riiight…" Jack looked away for a moment and framed his chin with his right hand in a classic thinking pose – yet it was somehow more graceful when Jack did it; somehow alluring. "And does he know about-"

"No," Mickey interrupted. "He knows I work for something like the police or the government. Likes to try and guess sometimes," he said with a smile. It switched to a frown pretty fast. "I'm keeping him out of it."

He wasn't sure how Drake would react to Torchwood. It was completely possible that he would simply accept it, like Jake had. Except that Jake had lived in a world where people vanished off the streets and were converted into Cybermen; where you had to join the fight or die. Drake may have witnessed the alien activity in England recently, but there was no way he'd experienced anything like Jake had. So it was possible that Drake simply wouldn't believe Mickey if he told him the truth; or that he would leave him because of it.

And even though they weren't actually together, Mickey didn't want to risk losing him. He'd done that once and he didn't ever want to do that again.

Mickey didn't realize he'd been staring at the ground until he had to raise his eyes to look at Jack, who was staring evenly back at him. "I'm keeping him out of it," he repeated, so Jack knew how serious he was about it. He didn't want to tarnish Drake that way.

Jack waved the thought away. "No, I get it. Your choice," he agreed, turning his chair sideways so that he had to turn his head to the left to look at Mickey now. "So you're not boyfriends," he clarified.

Mickey shook his head. "No."

"Even though you hold hands?" Jack asked, trying to sound innocent and failing.

Mickey's jaw dropped. "Captain!" he practically shouted. "No! That was-," He pulled his hands from his pockets to try and use them to somehow explain himself. "That wasn't holding hands. It was me pulling him along somewhere. No 'holding' at all."

Jack nodded and looked forward, and the motion screamed 'Sure. Whatever you say. I don't believe you for a second.' Mickey opened his mouth to keep defending himself, but his mobile vibrated. It was just loud enough that Jack heard it too. The Captain turned to look at Mickey again, even spinning his chair to face the desk again. His eyes flicked from Mickey's face to his pocket twice. Mickey shut his eyes in a wince before slowly pulling his still vibrating mobile out.

'THE MIGHTY DRAGON' was calling. Drake had listed himself in Mickey's contact list. With an exasperated glance at Jack, who was still watching him in interest, Mickey flipped his mobile open and put it to his ear.

"Hey, mate," he greeted.

" _Oh, hey,_ " Drake replied, sounding caught off guard. " _I didn't expect you to pick up. Aren't you at work?_ "

"Yeah. But my boss said it was cool," Mickey explained. Jack raised an eyebrow briefly and Mickey shook his head at him. "Did you need something?"

" _Not really. Just wanted to say that…we finished recording the CD and, if you wanted it…I could get you one free_ ," Drake said in a semi-casual manner.

Mickey couldn't stop the smile that overran his face. "No," he said, though his smile was evident in his voice. "I'd rather buy it and support the band."

" _…Oh_ ," Drake let out, as if that hadn't occurred to him. Mickey almost laughed. It's a good thing Drake had bandmates, because he was not the most money savvy person. " _Right. Well….Thank you._ " And he sounded truly grateful. " _Uh, so….You free tonight?_ "

"Am I free tonight?" Mickey repeated aloud, dropping his smile and giving Jack a pointed look.

Jack pulled his right hand from where he'd been covering his giant smile and shrugged. "I guess you could be."

"Yeah," Mickey answered. "I'm free. Why? You wanna grab a drink?"

Mickey could hear Drake take a deep breath. It was the sort of sound he was used to hearing before someone charged an army of cybermen; before a battle.

" _Yeah,_ " Drake agreed at length. " _My mates are going out in a bit to celebrate, but I told 'em I wanted to wait til tonight._ " Until you, Mickey heard in his head.

Mickey nodded his head. He rubbed his nose with his free, left hand, a shy sort of motion, and tried his hardest not to look at Jack. "So, tonight? I know this great place." He grinned. "Bands play there, trying to make it big."

Drake snorted. " _Alright, yeah. Sounds perfect._ " Mickey heard him shift a bit. " _Well, I'd better let you off before your boss changes his mind. See you tonight?_ "

"Yea," Mickey agreed with a nod. "Tonight. Eight o'clock."

" _Bye._ "

Conversation over, Mickey slipped his mobile back in his pocket. He shot a glare at Jack. "Not a word."

Jack giggled, unashamed. "I wasn't going to say anything," he claimed, but the look on his face belayed him. "Think I watched you turn into goo on the floor just now, though. I was wondering if I should go grab a beaker to keep you in."

With a groan of frustration, Mickey turned on his heel and marched over to his own work station. He watched as Gwen and Ianto quickly looked away as he passed them, and that only made him angrier. Is that what this Torchwood did? They laughed when their coworkers had relationships unrelated to the job?

He'd just plopped down in his chair when his mobile vibrated again. Mickey quickly ripped it out, expecting a message from Drake. Instead, it was from Torchwood. Curious, Mickey opened it.

_'Just ask him out already'_

Mickey let his mobile drop onto the desk top and covered his face with his hands. Good God. What had he just started?


	4. Tempo

The rain fell hard on Mickey's head that night, dripping off his ears, nose, chin, his fingers and elbows, and the gun he held secretively in front of him, out of sight of anyone passing by. Only street lamps gave light to the scene he was a part of. Gwen was kneeling by a body on the ground not four feet from where Mickey stood.

The woman lying there was blonde, her hair darkened by the rain. Her skin was pale and wrinkled, but she looked around twenty-seven years old.

"Well, her license says Jennifer Grant," Gwen said with a heavy sigh as she stood up, Jennifer's wallet in her gloved hand. She held the object out to Mickey so he could see the picture housed inside. "She was twenty-six."

"So whatever it is we're looking for…it doesn't age you," Mickey reasoned aloud. "She still looks pretty young. But her skin…"

"I don't know," Gwen said, dropping her arms to her sides in a motion that announced her useless feeling all on its own. "The closest I've seen to this was in a horror movie with vampires."

Mickey grinned despite himself. "So we've got a vampire on the loose?" he asked jokingly, turning his head just a bit to look from Gwen to Jennifer and then back again.

"Maybe," Gwen agreed, though she sounded reluctant. "We'd better get Jack and let him know what we've found."

Mickey nodded as Gwen walked past him. Pocketing the gun inside his jacket, Mickey quickly followed her back over to where the police were gathered, where Torchwood had ordered them while they investigated. He saw Gwen pass off the wallet to an officer, but he didn't catch what she said to him. He glanced back only once before hopping into the car and driving them both back to base.

This was the second person to show up dead like this. Jack had the first person back at the base, so hopefully he'd learned something from the body while they were gone.

Just as he hopped out of the car, back in the Torchwood garage, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He groaned. He was supposed to go out with Drake tonight. He had even planned on asking him to be his boyfriend tonight! But now this had come up…

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Mickey opened the text from Drake. _'Manager called. Have to cancel 2night. Sorry! 2morrow?'_

"Oh," Mickey let out, feeling his heart fall. He would've had to bail tonight anyway, but knowing that even if they worked this out tonight, he couldn't go see Drake was really…sad. He shook his head.

"Mickey, let's go!" Gwen called from up ahead.

Mickey opened up a reply text. "Right. Coming!" He walked as he typed. _'That's fine. Boss called me n neway. 2morrow is good tho. C u then. ;)'_

Gosh, he hadn't felt this playful in…what, five years?

…

…

Jack drove like mad, while Gwen and Mickey sat in the back seat. Gwen was looking out the window as they rushed past building after building. Mickey's right knee was bouncing with nervousness and he held his mobile to his ear.

"Come on, come on," Mickey muttered while his mobile rang in his ear quietly. Finally, there was a click.

" 'lo?" Drake's voice asked, confused. Mickey let out an aggravated breath. Two seconds passed and then, "Just fucking with you, mate. I'm not here at the moment. Don't be an idiot, leave a message, and I'll ring you back soon as I can. Bye."

Mickey hit 'end' harder than he meant to and snapped his phone shut. "Damn," he cursed. "He didn't answer. Ianto, you find him yet?"

 _"Sorry, no,"_ Ianto's voice came out of the dashboard. _"I've looked up the address for the studio you gave me…but there doesn't seem to be anyone there."_

Mickey frowned. Gwen answered. "All that means is they've gone home. Mickey, do you know Drake's home address?"

When Mickey nodded, Gwen pushed a keyboard from the car's internal computer at him. Mickey hurriedly typed the address in and hit enter. A navigation popped up.

"Turn right up here, Jack," Gwen said.

The car swerved dangerously as it took the turn going at least fifteen miles too fast. Mickey and Gwen grabbed hold of random bits of the car to keep seated. Once stable again, Gwen looked back at the computer.

"There's some tracks, and then you take a left."

Mickey grabbed a separate keyboard and dashed in some keys. He heard Ianto make a noise, but paid no mind. The screen pulled up the CCTV image Ianto was looking at and then switched to one that showed the road where Drake lived. There were no cameras that showed his exact flat, so this was as close as he could get. There was a dog walking in the fallen dark, but no people. A few windows were lit up, indicating families come home for the night.

"Mickey," Ianto said disapprovingly.

Mickey blinked and came back to the car. "Sorry." He pushed the keyboard away. Jack took another turn and Mickey grabbed the back of his seat.

Drake was the target. Like human murderers only kill substitutes until they can work up to the real thing, this creature would go after Drake. It was the only lead they had, so they were following it. How did they know? They caught an image of the creature on CCTV.

Jack had explained that this creature was called a Shei, a life sucking creature from a planet hundreds of galaxies away. It lived by sucking the life force from its victims. "Like a vampire, but without the blood part," he'd said. "It lives by taking the life of others." He'd said it was a creature that merged with a host body, possessing them, to make the kill. "They're made of gas. Hard to physically touch someone when you don't have a body."

Ianto had found the last victim on CCTV the night she died. They'd watched as a younger woman had approached her, talked a little, and then took Jennifer's hand. While horrific, it was also fascinating to watch. Mickey had never seen anything like it. He hoped to never see it again. If vampire movies did it this way instead, they'd be much more frightening than a blood sucker ever was.

But the point was that Mickey had recognized the killer. It had been months, but when Gwen pulled up her photo using the face recognition technology, he had recognized her immediately. Emma was nineteen now, but she'd been eighteen when she'd seen the Preachers perform live, the night Mickey met Drake. And then he remembered the victims. They'd been in that club too. They'd crowded around the band after the performance.

"You'd think she'd go after you," Jack had said as they were climbing into the car earlier. "You've spent more time with him than anyone."

"But I didn't talk to him at that bar until after she'd left," Mickey had told him.

And they knew she was after Drake specifically, or at least they thought she was, because she'd been wearing a t-shirt with Drake's face on it in the video – a homemade shirt.

The car pulled to a stop and the engine cut off. "I just saw him turn the corner," Jack explained hurriedly.

 _"Right. I see him on the cameras too,"_ Ianto informed them. _"…Uh oh. I see Emma too."_

Mickey grabbed a gun and ripped the car door open. Jack called "Wait!"

"What?" Mickey snapped.

Jack tossed him a handheld mirror. It was about the size of Mickey's own hand with a simple metal frame and handle. "Shei can't look at themselves in the mirror. They get trapped in their own reflection. It should free Emma without us having to shoot her."

Gwen gave Jack a grateful look, no doubt inwardly praising him for thinking of Emma's life before the mission. Mickey nodded and jumped out of the car. Jack handed Gwen a mirror as well and then they both followed quickly after him.

_"Emma's reached Drake."_

Mickey turned the corner. Drake was only about five meters away, and Emma was in front of him, facing back toward Mickey. "Drake!"

Drake paused, whatever conversation they'd been having ending abruptly, and then he turned; first his head, then his shoulders, and all the way down until his entire body was turning to look back.

"Mickey?" Drake asked, confusion clear in his voice. Whether he was confused by Mickey's presence, or his military like attire, or by the gun and mirror he held, Mickey didn't know. "Ah-"

Emma wrapped herself around Drake, her arms encircling his body and trapping his own arms against his sides. Her blonde hair fell over his shoulder and she pressed her cheek against his neck. Drake went rigged, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Mickey saw red.

"Let him go!" he shouted. He hurried the last few steps and reached out to Emma, but Gwen's voice shouted.

"Don't touch her, Mickey!"

Mickey stopped an inch short of Emma's arm. He looked frantically between Drake's face, where the color was slowly fading away and his eyes were desperate, and Emma, who looked to be in perfect bliss.

"Hey, Emma," Mickey said in a challenging voice. "Lookie what I've got." Emma refused to even open her eyes. "Emma!" Nothing.

With a growl, Mickey held the mirror up in his left hand and grabbed Emma by the face with his right. His whole body went cold and paralyzed. Mickey forced his body to move, worked so hard he was tired after only a few short seconds, and moved Emma's head. Her cheek slowly peeled itself away from Drake's neck. The skin to skin contact gone, Mickey heard Drake start gasping for breath. Emma's eyes turned cold and furious. In an instant, she released Drake and lashed out at Mickey. The mirror flew from his hands and shattered on the ground some distance away. Mickey couldn't tell how far. He couldn't look away from Emma, who held his face firmly with one hand.

Drake stumbled into the wall surrounding the house next to them, still unable to find his breath. He clutched at the brick there for support but turned to look at Mickey instead. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew that whatever it was, Mickey had saved him from it and that it was now happening to Mickey instead. But his legs felt like jelly! He reached toward Mickey and Emma but his knees gave out and he instead toppled to the ground.

An arm wrapped around him before he fully fell, a man's arm, and hoisted him back up. Jack set him back against the wall in one swift motion before he was standing less than an inch from where Mickey and Emma were.

"Hey, Shei," he said like a curse. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

Jack punched Emma in the face, no holds barred. Emma recoiled but did not release Mickey's face. She turned to glare at Jack though, and her eyes had turned a sickly green color all around and there were fangs protruding from her mouth. Instead of glaring at Jack, she found herself staring into a mirror held up in front of Jack's face. Her eyes widened.

With a horrific scream, that thankfully only lasted a brief moment, green mist was sucked out of Emma and into the mirror. The whole ordeal was over in less than a minute.

Emma's eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her hand dropped from Mickey's face as she fell back, but Gwen caught her and cushioned her fall. Mickey gasped and dropped to his knees, sucking in hungry, deep breaths of air. The mirror in Jack's hands shook, and then something white seeped out and vanished into the air. Mickey felt dizzy for a second but then he felt fine. He felt great actually.

"What was that?" he asked, looking up at Jack from his place on the ground.

Jack shook the mirror vaguely, a little more white shaking off of it, and let out a breath. "That," he said, "was your life coming back to you. All the energy it had gained just got thrown back out." He gave a breathy laugh. "I'd hate to be working the morgue right now."

Gwen and Mickey managed smiles of their own. Then, "What the _fuck_ just happened?"

All smiles dropped and everyone turned to look at Drake, who was still leaning on the wall even though he was physically fine now.

"Drake," Mickey said quietly.

Jack placed a hand on Mickey's shoulder. "Sorry," he said, and he truly sounded it. "We'll take care of Emma while you….take care of this." He motioned with his head toward Drake. Jack grabbed Mickey's gun and slung its strap over his shoulder before turning to Gwen.

Mickey frowned at Jack. He was running away! How was Mickey supposed to explain all this? But Jack ignored him and instead helped Gwen to lift Emma off the ground. He watched them putter away down the street and out of sight before looking back at Drake. Drake was staring resolutely back at him, his eyebrows drawn down over his eyes in deep concentration.

"Tell me what's going on, Mickey," he said seriously. He shook his head. "Cause I don't understand."

Mickey sighed and pushed himself to a standing position. He was suddenly grateful Jack had taken his weapon. He didn't want to look too imposing right now, he supposed. "Uh," he let out, unsure of where to start. "You remember me talking about my job?"

Drake nodded. "Something government."

Mickey nodded too. "Right. Well….this is it. I work for Torchwood."

Drake frowned. "Tor-Wait, I've heard that name before," he said, pushing off the wall a bit. "When the ghosts were showing up all over the world. There was some big battle or something. News said it was Torchwood that ended it."

"Yea, the Battle of Canary Warf," Mickey informed him. "I was there for that." Drake took a half step back, and hit the brick behind him, looking surprised. "You see, Torchwood…" Mickey exhaled sharply. He was going to sound crazy. "Torchwood deals with anything alien. If it's not from Earth, then Torchwood gets called in to figure out what it is, what it does, and deal with any trouble caused. The ghosts…they were creatures called Cybermen…and they came from another dimension. I came from there, at least that time, to deal with them." He shook his head. Drake looked shell shocked and not comprehending any of this. "I'm not from another dimension. I just….It's hard to explain. I was born here. I grew up here. I _live_ here. That's what matters."

For a long time, Drake just stared at Mickey. His expression moved from utterly lost and shocked, to mild confusion, to slight understanding. After a good three minutes of silence, with only the sounds of the night around them, Drake spoke.

"So….you're like an alien hunter?" he asked slowly.

Mickey let out a soft half-laugh and smiled. "Something like that. Protecting the world from enemies." His smile fell away and when he next spoke, it was quiet. "Are you alright, Drake?"

There was a short pause, as if Drake were translating what Mickey said from another language, and then he nodded. "Y-yea." He shook his head and gave a brief smile. "I'm-fine. Just fine. Never felt better. What just happened to me?" he asked.

Mickey glanced at where Emma had been when she'd held his face and then back at Drake. "A Shei-An alien," he corrected, for simplicity sake. "It took over that girl's body to feed on the life force of humans…to survive…And it tried to kill you."

"And you," Drake half-interrupted swiftly. His eyes darted away briefly before coming back to rest on Mickey's face.

Mickey blinked. He hadn't expected Drake to speak, and especially not to say that. "Right. And me."

"Thank you," Drake said, his voice dropping like he was afraid of being overheard. "You-" he stopped, seemingly unsure of what to say next. He shook out his arms, glanced away, and then ran an aggravated hand through his hair, bending and smoothing some of his spikes. "Do you do this every day?" he asked suddenly, locking eyes with Mickey.

There was worry there, in his eyes. There was lingering fear and a lot of confusion, but mostly worry.

Mickey nodded slowly. "Not every day. But most days," he admitted. Drake let out a rough breath and looked to his right, hunching his shoulders as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Mickey felt his heart speed up. "Is that a problem?"

Granted, if this drove Drake away, then Drake probably didn't 'deserve' him, whatever the hell that meant. But Mickey knew that accepting what Torchwood did and what Torchwood meant was hard even for those who worked there, let alone anyone who tried to get involved with workers there. So he'd…understand…if Drake walked away. Still, he didn't want him to go.

"A pr-," Drake paused, shutting his eyes. "Yea. It's a _big_ damn problem, Mickey," he said angrily.

It felt like a physical blow to the gut. Mickey frowned deeper and tensed to keep from reacting, but he felt heat behind his eyes.

"Dammit," Drake cursed under his breath. "We nearly _died_ tonight, Mick," he emphasized, looking at Mickey again. "And you say you do this kind of shit all the time? You put yourself in danger every day? Facing, what, aliens and inter-dimensional beings? And you've-" Drake inhaled sharply, "I don't even know what other sorts of monsters you've faced, but this-" he motioned with his right arm, pulling it from his pants and pointing almost viciously at where Emma had fallen, "-scared the shit out of me. I thought I was going to die. I _felt_ myself dying."

Mickey knew what he meant. When Emma touched him, it had felt like there was no hope. His pulse raced but he couldn't move, adrenaline pumped through his veins in vain. And all the while he felt his strength leave him, being sucked out of him and pouring into this creature in a human body. Strange as it was, he'd known he was dying; known that any second would be his last; even without his previous knowledge of the fact. It was terrifying.

Drake suddenly surged forward the foot between them and grabbed Mickey by the shoulders. "I can't imagine doing this for a living. I don't want to think about you doing this sort of stuff," he said firmly, as firmly as his grip held Mickey still. "Because if I do-I don't want to think about you dying."

Something like understanding crept into the back of Mickey's mind. Mickey brought his hands up, around where Drake arms led to the hands on his shoulders, and held Drake's face. In the same moment, he leaned forward. Before Drake could react at all, Mickey had already pressed their lips together.

For a moment, nothing happened. Mickey kissed and Drake was just there. Then Drake seemed to come to life. His fingers curled further into Mickey's shoulders briefly as he kissed back. Then he pressed closer, his hands leaving Mickey's shoulders so he could wrap his arms around Mickey's back and grip his shirt with his left hand and Mickey's neck with his right.

Mickey stepped forward, moving Drake backward, until he had the white boy pressed into the brick wall. He wasn't sure how long they were kissing, or how many times they kissed, or anything that was going on around them. All he knew was the space between his body and Drake's and the air that passed in the parting of their lips and the passion in Drake's eyes, when they weren't closed, caught up in the feelings.

It seemed like a century had passed when Drake finally turned his head an inch to the right and gulped in some air. Mickey smiled as he caught his own breath too. "Drake," he began.

Drake looked at him with his eyes, but didn't turn his head back and didn't speak.

"Be my boyfriend?" He said it in an almost light way, but his whole body felt jittery, like he was one second from flying away. Mickey shook his head slightly but never broke eye contact. "Even with my crazy job and the danger. It's all me and I can't stop being what I am." He swallowed. "But I…I really care about you and I don't want to lose you."

Several short seconds passed, where Drake just breathed and Mickey just breathed. Then Drake pulled his arms back over Mickey's shoulders and grasped the front of Mickey's shirt. He leaned his head down a fraction. After a long moment, he looked back up with determined eyes. "My job's pretty crazy too, maybe not like this, but still crazy, and you put up with me, so yea. I'll be your boyfriend."

Mickey couldn't help the beaming smile that overtook his face. He leaned in and crushed his lips against Drake's again, kissing him happily. Drake laughed into it and kissed back.

The stars and moon glittered in the sky.


End file.
